Xkoutarou - He Hurt Me But It Felt Like True Love

taking care — wind breaker, aged up sakura haruka x f!reader, established relationship, "brat" as a petname, smut towards the end, 4.4k words

"Aren't you too old for this?"

Sakura Haruka grimaces and shoves his bruised hands into his pockets. You raise an unimpressed eyebrow. There's dirt smudged along his cheekbone and the end of his sleeve is ripped.

"They were tryin' to hit on a girl." It comes out mumbled. Haruka's two toned gaze is averted to the top of your head. It was always difficult to get him to meet your eye in your high school years, but ever since he hit his growth spurt and graduated you feel like it's gotten worse.

"Haruka-kun," you sigh, "c'mere."

You grab his arm and tug, taking advantage of his brief moment of surprise to drag him into the back of the bakery. Your coworkers wave and smile at the former school captain but otherwise leave the two of you alone.

"Y-you…! What're you doing?"

The back office of Saboten is neat and clean and thankfully empty. You shove Haruka into a chair and grab his chin, ignoring the flare of heat beneath your fingers as he turns bright red.

"Did you get hit on the face?" you ask, leaning closer to look. The dirt smudging his cheek is loose, brushing away easily when you stroke the smooth skin there. You probe gently at the strong bone beneath and ignore the way his chest seizes with a held breath.

"No," he mumbles, "it's just dirt."

Your attention is drawn — as always — to his eyes. A muted, stormy gray blue and a bright, shimmering gold meet your unabashed gaze as your thumb strokes along his cheekbone again.

"I'm glad you didn't get hurt." You allow yourself a tiny grin as he scrunches his nose at you. "You could've let the new Bofurin kids handle it… but those guys will definitely think twice about messing with anyone from our neighborhood now."

"'Course," Haruka sniffs. You wonder if he knows he's leaning into your palm. "It was a quick fight, anyway. Only losers are late."

"I told you, you don't have to pick me up from work. I can handle myself." You giggle as he scoffs. You slide into a crouch, propping up your elbows on his knees for balance. "Give me your hands, Haruka-kun."

Your boyfriend hesitates for a short moment before releasing a breath. His hands are rough, but he flips them over obligingly and doesn't flinch when you curl your fingers around his wrists. "You've bruised your knuckles again," you tsk. "I'll go grab the first aid kit."

"W-wait." Haruka's entire face is charmingly pink, the gentle hue sweeping along his cheeks and up to the tips of his ears. "You don't… I mean, I don't need you to —"

"I know," you hum, tugging his hands up to brush a gentle kiss along his skin. "But I want to."

Haruka stays quiet as you fetch the first aid kit and get to work disinfecting the tiny cuts on his hands. You're used to the comfortable silence, basking in the familiarity of tending to his battle wounds in the back of the bakery where you first met.

You never would've guessed that part of your job duties at the bakery would include taking care of the new out-of-towner all those years ago, though it wasn't like he went along with it quietly. Your boss at the time was adamant that the Bofurin boys deserved all the freebies the bakery could afford to give, and she never minded when you'd pop off to the back alley to administer first aid.

Nirei was the one who knew you were handy with a medical kit, but it was Suo who eventually tricked their first year captain into coming to you. Haruka was a lot pricklier back then, shying away from casual human contact like everyone was out to get him but diving into fights like nobody's business.

Luckily for you, in spite of his speed and reflexes, Haruka definitely wasn't used to girls who were willing to literally sit on him to force him to stay still for first aid. After enough times shoving freshly baked bread into his hands and making him into your first aid practice dummy, he started to show up outside the bakery's back door on his own, often looking like a disgruntled street cat.

Little by little, you learned which breads he preferred and you begged Kotoha to teach you how to make omurice the way Haruka liked it. Little by little, he stopped flinching away from your touch and even let you lean against him when you needed a short break from work or studying, propping your head up against his shoulder and staying still enough that sometimes you'd fall asleep.

Little by little, the two of you fell in love.

Haruka doesn't say anything as you finish smoothing the tape holding his new wrappings together, but he flips his hands to hold onto you as you rise from your knees. You smile. "Do you wanna get dinner at Cafe Pothos? Kotoha-chan might make fun of you, though."

"She'll make fun of me no matter what," he grumbles. You snicker as he ducks his head. From this angle, you can only see the pale white eyelashes of his left side pressing against his skin as he takes a deep breath. "Don'tcha need to finish your shift? I'll be outside."

"Aw, are you worried about me?"

"Shaddup" Haruka huffs. "As if I care."

You grin as he rises to his full height, still steadily avoiding eye contact as you squeeze his hands. After all these years, it's cute how flustered he still gets when you tease him. "Haruka-kun? You can let me go now."

"…Can't."

"Oh?" you raise an eyebrow and tilt your head to catch his eye. He scowls. "If you just loosen your fingers—"

"Sh-shut up." You watch patiently as your boyfriend takes a deep breath. It's quiet in this back office, though a wall is shared with the employee locker room and you can hear a few of your coworkers laughing and chatting indistinctly. The smell of rising dough and freshly baked bread permeates the room, cut through with the sharp tang of antiseptic cream.

Haruka's ears are still red. You catch a glimpse of them through his black and white hair and squeeze his hands again. So cute. "Haruka," you say.

"…What?"

You rise up on tiptoes to kiss him, holding onto his hands for balance as you rock forward. Haruka predictably freezes before making a rough sound and kissing you back, letting you take the lead as you lean into him. His heartbeat jumps beneath your lips as you move to kiss at the soft spot below his jaw, earning another strangled noise that makes you smile into his skin.

It's warm. You think maybe your own ears are red enough to match his, but you don't give him a chance to notice, pressing another quick kiss to his lips and disentangling yourself. "I've gotta get back to work. I'll see you in a bit, 'kay?"

You leave him in the back office, knowing he'll find his way to the alleyway behind the bakery to wait for you, as always. Your coworkers don't mention how long you were missing, but you take over the mopping and cleaning duties as a thank you anyway.

Haruka doesn't take your hand when you meet him after your shift, but he walks close enough that your shoulders brush with every step. The gentle ringing of the wind chimes strung up below the shopping district sign follows the two of you on your walk towards home.

"What should we have for dinner, since you don't wanna endure Kotoha's teasing?" you ask, grinning lopsidedly when Haruka snorts in response. The street lamps cast a glow along his black and white hair, haloing him in a light gold that pales in comparison to his golden eye.

He glances sideways at you as you pause at a crosswalk. You catch a flash of gold and blue before he faces forward again. "You're comin' over?"

"Yes, or else you'll eat instant noodles again and die of malnutrition," you say. The two of you step into the street, though he steps slightly ahead of you to make sure it's clear. "Unless you don't want me to."

"Let's have curry."

"Did you get ingredients for curry, mister?" you ask, bumping your shoulder into his arm teasingly. "Or will we need to stop by a konbini again for emergency supplies?"

"That was just one time," Haruka grumbles, but he glances back at you fondly as you laugh. "And I went shopping earlier, brat."

He lets you hold onto his sleeve as you enter his studio apartment and stays steady as you toe your shoes off in the genkan. The place is vastly improved from the first time you stepped foot in it all those years ago, when you were delivering food for a sick Haruka.

Gone are the creaky hinges and peeling paint — the walls are smooth and clean, the cabinet doors are all securely attached, and there are actual curtains hanging over the balcony doors. He still sleeps on a futon, but he also got a low table and cushions for guests after you complained about eating on top of cardboard boxes, and he got a dresser to store his clothing after you took him shopping so he'd stop wandering around town always wearing his high school uniform.

Making dinner is always fun, with Haruka, because even though he's grown and learned a lot, you still get to tease him about his bulk stack of instant noodle packages and he still turns bright red when you lean over the table to offer him a spoonful from your plate.

He's more relaxed here, more willing to close the gap between you when you reach out to him. It used to worry you in the beginning — would you always be the one to make the first move? Did he actually like you, or was he just going along with your flirting because he didn't know any better?

Then he does something like swiping his thumb along your lips and sticking the digit in his mouth, laughing at your surprised gasp and gathering up the dishes before you can form a coherent thought. He asks about your day and listens as you tell him about the cute little kid who came into the shop asking for curry bread because "that's Sakura-taicho's favorite, and I wanna be like him when I grow up!"

You bask happily in the furious blush that paints his skin, grinning to yourself as he stammers and jerks his face away.

"Did you get new towels?" you ask, handing him a soapy plate to rinse off. Your boyfriend takes it, huffing an amused snort when you yawn widely. It's nearing your bedtime, and your sated appetite is making you even sleepier.

"Yeah," Haruka says, "since you were complainin' last time that mine're scratchy."

"Oh, nice," you say, rinsing the suds off your hands and moving to stand behind him. You shove your face into his shoulder blades before he can move, wrapping your arms around his middle as he tenses beneath you. It's been ages since he was an active fighter defending the town, but you can still feel the power and strength of his densely packed muscles twitching under your hold. "Mm, I'm sleepy…"

"Gwah! What are ya, an octopus?!" Haruka sets the clean plate on the drying rack and settles his hands on top of yours, but he doesn't move you. He could easily overpower you, though you're hugging him pretty firmly, pressing your entire body up against his as you take a deep breath. "The hell're you doin'?"

"Hugging you," you say. Haruka's fingers tighten around your wrists, but he still doesn't move you.

"I got that, genius."

"I'm just recharging before I have to head home," you mumble into his shirt. You're saving both of you from embarrassment, here, hugging him from behind like this, so really he should be grateful that you're so considerate of his feelings.

"It's late."

"I know," you whine, squeezing him just a little bit harder. "I don't wanna think about it."

"You have a toothbrush here."

Oh. "I don't have clothes here."

"You can borrow mine." Haruka stiffens even more as your hands clench the front of his shirt. "I-It's not like I'm tryna get you to stay over! It's just that it's late and you've gotta get up e-early tomorrow! I'm not some kinda pervert!"

You giggle into his back and nuzzle your forehead into the strong muscle there as he finally relaxes. "I'd be kinda upset if you didn't think about it a little bit, Haruka-kun. I am your girlfriend, after all."

Haruka lets out a huge sigh and moves to brace his hands on the counter. "You can take a bath first. Lemme go heat up the water."

"Are you trying to be a gentleman again?"

"Wuh — what're you talkin' about? I already told you I'm not a pervert!"

You laugh. "Last time you went to heat up the water for me, you didn't come out for a solid twenty minutes. I thought you passed out in there."

"That was just — I was just —!" Haruka hangs his head and you press your cheek against his back. You can feel his heartbeat pounding in double time. "I was tryin' to calm down."

"You don't have to, y'know," you say softly, patting at his firm chest with a sigh. "I wanna do it too."

Haruka chokes on his spit. Or at least, you think that's what happens, because he lapses into a coughing fit and gently pushes you towards the bathroom with a red face. He refuses to answer your concerned questions, only shoving a pair of shorts and a t-shirt into your arms before shutting the bathroom door on your amused face.

You shower and bathe on your own, humming a nonsensical tune as you lather up with his shampoo and body wash. It's a minor miracle and mostly a testament to your relationship that he has amenities at all, the clean smelling soaps clearly picked out with a thought towards your possible use of them. It makes your heart stutter in your chest when you notice that he's stocked your favorite brand of lotion on the counter and even left a clean face towel and headband for you to use while washing your face, as if he knew you'd need them eventually.

His clothes are a little too big on you, but you cinch the waistband of his shorts and hope for the best as you step out of the bathroom. Haruka is sitting stiffly at the low table, glaring down at his phone as the screen lights up with texts.

"Is everything okay?" you ask.

Haruka looks up and freezes. You pause in the act of adjusting his shirt on your shoulders, blinking at your boyfriend as he seems to go through five stages of something before he turns a bright cherry red and slams his eyes shut. You snort.

"You've seen me naked before, Haruka-kun."

"S-shaddup! T-that's different!"

You get on your knees in front of him and cup his face in your hands. Haruka doesn't flinch, but he cracks open one stormy blue eye like he's worried about what he might see. You roll your eyes at him. "Are you good? Why do you look so pissed at your phone?"

"Oh," Haruka blinks and glances sideways at the offending item. His face is warm in your hands. "The guys found out you're staying over."

"Are they giving you advice on how to get laid again?" you ask, giggling. "I love you, but please don't listen to Umemiya-san. I promise I don't get turned on by plant based pickup lines."

"I'm gonna shower!" Haruka stands abruptly and shuffles past you, but he pauses at the door. "You can read it, if ya want. The chat thread."

You raise an eyebrow and pick up his phone as he shuts the bathroom door behind him. A generic wallpaper greets you as you swipe it open, but you notice a star emoji next to your name in his message history, which makes you smile.

The chat thread with Haruka's former classmates is at the top, filling with more unread notifications as you watch. Scrolling through, you grin to yourself as the boys send teasing and shy stickers, interspersed with their own complaints of struggling to find partners for themselves and throwaway comments about "that lucky bastard Sakura" snagging "the cutest girl on Tonbu street".

"What're ya laughin' at?" You blink as Haruka crouches in front of you, a towel hanging around his neck. He's shirtless, and you watch with interest as a gentle pink flush deepens and spreads along his skin. "Quit starin'!"

"Y-you're the one who came out shirtless," you squeak, setting his phone aside and reaching out for him. Haruka chews on his lip but lets you touch him. "That's so unfair!"

You trail your hands down his bare sides and smile as he tries to suppress a shiver. Then you reach for his hands. "The first aid kit is here," Haruka says, stretching out to grab it from its shelf. The movement puts his hard muscles on full display, though you have a feeling it's unintentional. Regardless, you can't quite tear your eyes away from his chest and stomach, watching as the muscles of his abs flex when he returns to his crouch.

"You're so stupidly hot," you mutter, accepting the kit and snapping it open. "I can't believe you just walk around looking like this."

"H-huh?" Haruka's eyes widen in surprise. You grab his hands to keep him from running away, but he stays still as you reapply ointment and bandages to his knuckles.

"I know you find it hard to believe, since people used to give you shit about your looks, but you are…" you pause and glance up at him, taking in his smooth skin, his beautiful gray blue and golden eyes, his fluffy black and white hair, "stupidly hot."

Your boyfriend sighs and places a hand on your hip. You set the first aid kit aside and grin up at his pleasantly pink face. "Can I kiss you?"

"Yes, please."

Haruka kisses you slowly, tentatively. It's a little precarious, leaning up as he crouches in front of you, so you drag him to the futon and pull him over you, tugging him close by the ends of his towel. "You're so warm," he mutters, shifting his weight on his elbows and doing his best to keep from crushing you.

You sigh into the next kiss, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him down, huffing a laugh when he grunts and smacks his hand against the floor in surprise. "You're so far from me, how can you even tell?" you tease.

"You're always warm," Haruka grumbles. He noses along your cheek, smiling against the smooth skin there as you giggle. "And soft."

"Are you callin' me weak?" you ask, tilting your head to kiss him again. He breaks the kiss with a pant, nipping at the exposed skin of your collar as your shirt shifts. "Ah — hey!"

Haruka groans, one of his hands going down to grip at the soft give of your waist, holding you still as he grinds down into the cradle of your thighs. You moan as his hard length drags against you, wiggling your hips into the friction as something pulses in your core. "I should've given you another shirt."

"A-another shirt? What's wrong with t-this one?" You gasp as he rolls his hips again, arching into the touch as his free hand slips beneath your borrowed shirt to brush against the swell of your chest. You grab at his shoulders and back, dragging your blunt nails along his skin as you pant. "I l-like this shirt!"

"I like it too," he admits, hiding his face in the juncture of your neck and shoulder. His hand slides up to cup one of your tits, tugging and pinching as he sucks a bruise into your neck. "Y'look damn good in it."

You whine, throwing your head back as he shoves the shirt halfway up, snagging on the bottom of your breasts before he yanks it off of you entirely. He drapes himself back over you almost right away, kissing you breathless until you lick into his mouth to earn a strangled groan.

Haruka seems content to keep kissing you, and normally you wouldn't mind, but your borrowed shorts are getting uncomfortably damp and he keeps rolling his hips mindlessly and it's driving you a little insane.

"Haruka, touch me already," you plead. Your boyfriend pulls apart a few scant centimeters, two toned eyes scanning your face wildly until you grab one of his hands and shove it down your shorts. "O-oh, yes, please right there —!"

"Fuck," he bites out. "You're so wet."

"Haruka, you need to stretch me out," you say breathlessly, squirming as his fingers slide and press against the wetness along your lips. "Y-you're too big to go right away, you've gotta ngh —"

He dips one finger into your clenching pussy and freezes above you. It would be almost comical except for how much hotter it makes you, forcing you to buck into his hand as he pants. "S-stop squirmin' or I'll come in my fucking pants," Haruka grunts, forcing himself to begin fingering you in earnest.

He grits his teeth when you whine at another added finger, scissoring them immediately to hurry this up. He doesn't want to hurt you, but when you're laid out like this right in front of him, looking so pretty and perfect, it's taking everything he has not to rut into you like an animal.

"I'm ready, 'm ready," you breathe. You wrestle the two of you out of your bottoms and giggle when he sends one pair of shorts flying into the wall, but your attention is immediately drawn to the trail of black and white strands leading down to your boyfriend's cock. "Can I?"

"Fuck no," Haruka says, positioning himself between your legs again. "D'you want me to die?"

That makes you laugh. You reach out for him as he spreads your legs apart with rough fingers, his easy, overwhelming strength making something throb in your gut. Your sex life is actually pretty healthy, considering your respective jobs and commitments and Haruka's healing trauma. He's always been careful and attentive to your needs as you learned about desire together. It's not like you're deprived of it, or anything.

But when Haruka slowly pushes his way inside you, the muscles along his jaw ticking with restraint, the feeling of being filled by him makes something snap in your core and you cum with a breathless cry.

Haruka freezes immediately, hands slamming down on either side of your head as you clench and squeeze his cock unrelentingly. He barely manages a shallow thrust before he has to freeze again, hot breaths puffing on your face.

"Did you just…?"

"Uh huh."

"Does that always happen??"

"Your dick isn't magical, Haruka-kun," you giggle, looping your arms around his shoulders and wiggling your hips a little. "This isn't going to happen all the time, so don't get used to it."

"I wasn't sayin' that!"

Haruka pouts into your next kiss, but you lick into his mouth and manage to draw out a low groan and an aborted thrust. The ache in your gut hasn't lessened much. If anything, the pressure of his thick cock nestled inside you is making you tingle all over, and the way sweat starts to bead along his hairline makes you want to make him cry.

"You can move, please," you breathe, "you don't have to hold back."

"Don't wanna h-hurt you," Haruka grunts, pulling out slowly only to thrust back in with a force that makes your tits sway. He screws his two colored eyes shut, brows furrowing in concentration. "Fuck, you feel so good."

"You feel good, too," you sigh. "You can let go, I promise."

Haruka's next thrust makes you moan, and something in him seems to snap. He fucks you into the futon relentlessly, propping your ankles up on his shoulders, his dick hitting that spot inside that makes you see stars fuzzing along the edges of your vision. The angle presses your clit against his skin with every thrust, sending you quickly spiraling into another orgasm as you cry out his name.

"Hah, oh fuck I'm gonna —!"

Haruka groans a strangled garble of your name as he reaches his peak, thrusting into you deeply as his cock throbs and releases thick gobs of sticky cum inside you. He lets go of your legs immediately, pressing firmly into the muscles there to ease the strain of being stretched like that for so long, but he hides his face in your neck as the two of you catch your breath.

"Should I call in sick for work tomorrow?" you mutter absently, somewhat desperately grasping for some semblance of sanity. "I dunno if I'll be able to walk."

"Shit, did I hurt you?" Haruka asks, lifting his head and wincing at the pull of sweaty skin. He's glowing, bright and handsome above you, his hair damp with sweat. His two colored eyes are a little watery, his eyelashes sticking together in clumps with unshed tears from how hard he came. The sight makes something squirm in your gut.

You reach up to push his bangs out of his face and snicker as the strands stick up. "You didn't hurt me, you just fucked the strength out of my limbs. We'll need another shower."

Haruka blushes hotly, an impressive feat considering he's still solid and hard inside you. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm not hurt," you promise. You cradle his face in your hands and he leans into the touch. His hips roll slowly against you and he bites on his bottom lip as you gasp. "Haruka?"

"Maybe you should call in sick for work tomorrow."

"Seriously?"

Haruka nods, still blushing hard. "I swear I'm not a pervert, but you…"

You gape at him. "Are you calling me a pervert?"

"N-no!" You don't give him a chance to continue, leaning up to kiss him. You're both smiling when you pull away. "Who knew doing this stuff would feel better than fighting?"

You laugh out loud at that and flop back into the futon. "Are you seriously comparing the two things? Why're you thinking about fighting right now?"

"Can't help it," Haruka says, shrugging. "I could die when you make me feel so good. And fighting's what got me the cutest girl on Tonbu street."

Bitch, you cappin' and you big mad

I'm just fuckin' trappin', gettin' cat girls and some big bands

— Midline —

Piercer!Tendou // Fem!Reader

Warnings: tongue piercing, bad piercer practices, slight blood mentions, alcohol, and dubcon probably...

Word Count: 1140

Summary: you go to a party thrown by tendou and get a free piercing...sadly no smut in this part oops

a/n: this is only part one...say thanks to @kamoniwa for inspiring this and giving me ideas for more parts....

“I'm just fuckin' trappin', gettin' cat girls and some big bands,” the music was blasting loud enough for you to hear outside.

Each lyric rattling the windows as the bass reverberated down your spine, the air smelt of cheap booze and cigarettes, it was as familiar as any other college party your friends dragged you along too.

The only difference was that it wasn’t a college party, you and your friends had been invited by some volleyball players at your college, mentioning someone named Tendou offering free piercings to anyone who brought alcohol.

You and your friends thought it was too good to be true, nevertheless, here you were showing up with a bottle of everclear in clutch as you made your way inside.

The music only got louder as you got inside, making it nearly impossible to think as someone pointed you and your friends to the drinks.

That’s when you saw him, a room off to the side of the kitchen with a few people gathered inside, shaved red hair catching your eyes as his piercings glinted different colors in the changing strobe lights

You found yourself curious, hovering around the room before getting separated from your friends and going inside.

He was much more attractive up close, lithe fingers working quickly to pierce the person in front of him, someone you recognized as Goshiki as his friends chuckled around him and teased him.

You’d had a few shots with your friends and they were quickly catching up to you as you tried to ignore the way your stomach turned flips the longer you watched him push the needle through Goshiki’s nipple.

You could feel the butterflies in your stomach as an ache creeped it’s way into your chest at the thought of his fingers against your own nipples, the pinch of the clamp as the cool metal heats up against your body heat until the needle starts to go in and—

“Princess~”

The mocking tone dragged you out of your thoughts as your eyes met Tendou’s, a smirk playing on his lips as he waved his hand at you.

“Are you next?”

You gave him a sharp nod as you felt the heat rising to your cheeks, you knew you were caught the moment he motioned for you to sit down with a dark chuckle.

“Gettin’ your nipples pierced too then?”

“N-no,” you choked on your words as you stared at him wide eyed, you felt like a deer caught in headlights as you noticed the blown out look in his eyes.

“That’s a shame I’m sure they’d look cute on you,” the way his eyes traveled over your body with each word before hesitating on your chest had a shiver wracking through you.

“What’re you gettin’ then,” his eyes still lingered on your chest as each word reverberated with the music’s bass.

“I— uhmm—“ you hadn’t thought this far ahead before you sat down, even if you had the way his eyes were consuming you would have made you forget as you struggled to remember how to speak.

There was a deep chuckle from him as he licked his lips at the way you were squirming underneath his gaze.

You’d caught a quick glimpse of something on his tongue and finally remembered a coherent word as you pointed at his mouth.

“That,” the way he cocked his brow at your words had a coil tightening in your stomach as a devious little smirk played on his lips.

“You mean this?”

He opened his mouth, sticking his tongue out for you to see, the once hidden piercing now on full display for you as you tried to nod in response, your mind choking on the thought of how his tongue would feel between your thighs.

You tried to shake the thought from your mind as he prepped the small space, pulling out a fresh needle, piercing, and changing his gloves.

There was a nervousness budding back inside you at the sound of latex snapping against his hand, you suddenly felt sober yet intoxicated all at once as your mind went numb.

“W-what about the clamp?”

He chuckled at the nervous sound in your voice, “what do you mean?”

“Ahh a-are you going to use it?”

His laughter was even louder this time as his gloved thumb swiped over your bottom lip.

“Nah, it’s not sanitary anymore, plus it’ll hurt more so just sit real still and quiet for me princess.”

Before you could protest he had his fingers in your mouth, forcing it open as he shoved his fingers further and further back until you were gagging around them.

The taste of latex was strong as tears began to prick at the corners of your eyes, he gave you an apologetic smile but it didn’t quite meet his eyes as he watched you.

He pulled them back slowly, running them along the flat of your tongue before he had his thumb pressed under it and his forefinger holding it in place by the tip.

“This’ll hurt just a tiny bit.”

You could see the needle glint in the light and your first thought was to squeeze your eyes closed but you didn’t, you were too enthralled with the way the veins in his hands flexed with every movement of his fingers until the needle was piercing straight through your tongue.

There was a sharp pinch of pain enveloping your sense as you let out a strangled yelp, tears overflowing as you squeezed your eyes tightly shut and the taste of copper overpowered the taste of latex.

He was quick as he replaced the needle with your new piercing, a gloved hand coming up to stroke away tears on your cheek as you opened your eyes to look at him.

“All good princess?”

You nodded at him as you tried to ignore the throb in your tongue and the even more prevalent throb in your little wet cunt.

“Then up we go,” he helped you stand up before he let you sit in a chair beside him, leaning next to your ear as he began to whisper.

“I still think you’d be cute with those nipple piercings, if you give me your number later I’ll drop by your house, however, a home visit will cost you something extra.”

The last part held a dark tone in it that sent goosebumps crawling up your spine as he sat back down and turned to the next person waiting to be pierced.

He’d pulled out all the same tools as before, however, this time he pulled out an antiseptic and the clamps as he cleaned them off with a chuckle.

Despite the way your brain screamed to tell him off or to get up and leave you sat there wide eyed and lip quivering as your new piercing kept you silent.

atlas in her eyes | kuroo t.

synopsis: he loves you, then he loves you not.

genre: pain

wc: 800+

a/n: :) 

-

to breathe, you think, can be as easy as it is hard.

you inhale, and sometimes the air flows as easy as it spreads. sometimes oxygen comes in as smooth as the first breath of spring and summer’s air; where you smell the flowers, the sun, and the dewdrops that come by morning and leave by night. 

kind of like tetsurou. because to love, you note, works like the principles that come with breathing. 

“hello,” he breathes and it starts from there. 

Keep reading

part 1: “you wanna see daddy’s cock? yeah, you miss it already, don’t you?”

you nod eagerly, suddenly feeling shy about how desperate you are. atsumu can tell from the flush spreading across your face and the way you suck on your bottom lip. 

“my little girl,” he groans. you can see his arm moving faster and you see his face for only another moment before he switches to the back camera. “stick that tongue out for me,” he breathes. the waistband of his uniform shorts lays halfway down his thick, chiseled thighs, his legs outstretched in front of him as he sloppily strokes himself. he spits into his hand and you can hear the wet sounds, the lewd, shameless panting. “fuck.”

you do as you’re told, looking straight into the camera with your tongue out, purposely letting a little drool run down. he moans and the loud squelching sounds get faster, his technique gets messier. you can feel your pussy drooling, squeezing your thighs together, desperate for friction. desperate for him.

“look at it, sweetheart. don’t be shy. look at daddy’s cock,” he groans out. “god, my little girl is so slutty for me, yeah, just look at me, watch me cum for you baby, that’s it – getting close.”

you can’t help the little noise you make when he says that. his accent, the commanding tone of his voice and the sight of him fisting his cock to the sight of your face is all too much. “yes, daddy,” is all you can manage, sucking on your lip again, blinking innocently at him through the camera.  

“good girl – oh fuck, fuck, good girl!” he hitches his jersey up to expose his stomach and chest, brings the camera in closer so you can watch his tip glisten and disappear into his fist as he twists his hand around it just like you do. “gonna cum for you baby.” 

the muscles in his thighs twitch and his hips buck into his fist as he comes undone with a satisfied groan, cock twitching uncontrollably, cum covering the dips of his abs and the hem of his black and yellow jersey.   

switching back to the front camera, he drags his tongue along his lips and looks back at you with a sly grin. his eyes are sleepy and narrowed, his gaze alone making you throb. “bet you’re nice and wet for me now, aren’t you? show daddy, little girl. let me see how you touch yourself. go on.” 

─── 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄

+ sae x f!reader | wc 5.3k

notes: i’m in love with this man, and wrote this on a whim :’) hope y’all like it !! feedback & reblogs are greatly appreciated !! <3

summary: you’ve known sae since you were both sixteen. he’s always dreamed of going overseas and facing the world, will he ever be ready to come home?

𝐒𝐈𝐗𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

sae can read almost everyone flawlessly, you included.

he’s not close to you, not at all. physically? yes, because you’re his seat partner. but in all other aspects? no, definitely not.

you’re scared of him, he can tell. whenever he moves, you get self-conscious, immediately pulling your own chair in, giving him way. then you check on him as he moves away, because you’re scared that somehow you’ve managed to offend him.

you never did. because to offend sae, you’d need to be someone who can even bother him in the first place.

sae doesn’t care about what you do though, he just happens to notice you. out of convenience, because he sees you every monday to friday and sits next to you for every class.

it’s the same routine thing every week—you sit next to each other, barely say a word all day and then before he knows it, it’s the end of school day.

it doesn’t even matter. you don’t matter.

nobody really does.

he peeks at you out of the corner of his eyes, your eyes peering down at your paper with the utmost concentration. he quickly looks away though, because the last thing he wants is to get caught and be labeled as a cheater on a history quiz. especially when he’s not cheating.

yeah, you really don’t matter.

𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

soccer, soccer, soccer.

that’s all sae can think of nowadays. just do whatever he can to improve his skills, everything else is up for debate.

you’re still his seatmate, still ever so distant. he gives you credit though, for greeting him every morning now even though you look terrified and nervous all the time.

“good morning.”

today is no exception. sae’s eyes flick up to you and then back down to his desk, and that’s all of the acknowledgement you get, as usual. it’s nothing personal, he just doesn’t want to get into small talk at all.

but he’ll give you points for trying, even if he doesn’t exactly know what’s going through your head right now. somehow, he can’t read you as well anymore.

that’s how you usually are now, the newer version of you. a little more upbeat, a little friendlier, less awkward but still as shy as he first pegged you to be.

well, now you’re just slightly more amusing. somehow, sae starts to find himself wondering how you’d react to different situations.

it’s almost the middle of the school year and you’d kept up with your usual greetings everyday. sae keeps up with his usual stoic demeanour on his part.

until today.

“good morning!” you’re extra chirpy today, he notices.

sae blinks at you once, twice, and you’re still smiling at him, and he’d like to know whether you’re still that same nervous mess inside, so he opens his mouth this time.

“morning, y/n.”

simple, easy, basic courtesy.

but somehow you’re looking at him as though he’s a fucking freak.

to be fair, that’s exactly what he expected. but it’s now been a whole minute and you’re still staring dumbly at him.

“what?”

you shake your head, laughing sheepishly as you take your seat beside him, “nothing, it’s just… you never bothered talking to me before.”

sae shrugs, because it’s not like he bothers now, per se. he’s just—what’s the word—bored? “i can shut up too if you prefer that.”

“no!”

you look so embarrassed by your quick outburst that sae almost snickers. that’s the most reaction you’ve nearly managed to get out of him yet.

“i mean,” you stutter, looking for the right words to say, and maybe sae is getting a little bit of an ego boost right now because he can tell you’re flustered. “you’re pretty terrifying most of the time so…”

he knows what you mean, but he acts like he doesn’t. “oh, so you like terrifying? okay, i can do that.”

the way your face instantly switches to a straight expression is fucking amusing, and for a split second his guard falls and you get to hear him snicker.

luckily, the bell rings right after and mr hayato is never late. sae never got to hear what you thought of that.

every single day after that passes by a little bit easier, your non-friendship inching a little closer together, sae might even consider you an acquaintance now.

he converses with you a lot more fluidly (as much as he allows himself to—he doesn’t like you being too comfortable, likes to keep you on your toes), and he finds himself teaching you things he notices you’re absolutely horrible at.

like logarithms, because no matter how much you try to wrap your head around it, you refuse to ask anyone for help. you’re a little stubborn, but sae can live with that, just has to speak to you in a way that doesn’t seem like you look like you need help.

“no, you’re forgetting that the log of e is always one, there, see?” sae sighs as he explains, because you’re quite muddle-headed. “it’ll be much easier once you get all the definitions in your head.”

“were you born a genius or something?” you ask innocently upon catching his test scores. a 94 out of 100, compared to your 63.

that day, neither of you notice the fact that other people are beginning to notice your growing friendship.

sae starts tutoring you whenever he can, because apparently you’re hopeless without his help. (he says this to your face. he’s always straight with you.) and then he finds himself noticing you in ways he never did before.

how you look absolutely angelic when the sun hits your face. he notices the way you puff out your cheeks when you’re thinking hard. even the perfume that wafts through the air. you smell good.

this is ridiculous.

“hun, do you want any—”

fuck. sae’s head whips around to see an older woman at your door, almost a carbon copy of you, eyes wide as her gaze falls onto him.

no, he’s not particularly nervous or feels like he should be, but something tells you if your mother is anything like you, she’d misunderstand. this is just a lot more trouble than it’s worth. you’re a lot more trouble than it’s worth. what’s he even getting out of tutoring you?

“oh hi there! and who might you be?”

he can see stars in her eyes, all hopeful and excited as she shifts her gaze between you and sae and back to you again.

“mom! he’s no one—” ouch, he’s tutoring you and you introduce him as no one? “a friend and he’s tutoring me for some math stuff so could you…?”

it’s like the gears are turning in your mother’s head when she eyes sae knowingly. god, he has to do some damage control. don’t want either of you expecting anything much out of him.

“i’m itoshi sae,” he introduces himself, shaking her hand. “i just make time to tutor some of my classmates to earn extra credit.”

not even close to true, but neither of you need to know that. he’d much rather spend his free time getting in some training or going to the gym but he decided maybe he could spend a few hours out of today to help your dumbass with numbers.

he’s an expert at sidestepping small talk and in no time at all, your mother’s out of the room. you still seem embarrassed, he can feel the heat emanating from your cheeks.

“concentrate,” sae sighs, and he wonders why he’s even doing this for you. he’d rather go home right now, he thinks, maybe kick the ball around with rin, or just lie down in bed because waking up at 4am to train every morning is taking its toll.

you mumble a hushed apology and rub the sleepiness from your eyes. the both of you had been at this for a couple of hours now, maybe looking at numbers too much is making you tired too.

sae acknowledges you’re a fast learner though, if you have a proper teacher. he’s not surprised that ms kina’s teachings are lost on you—she’s not that good at explaining concepts. sae is, though. he usually doesn’t bother sharing but hey, maybe now is just a glitch in the matrix, maybe now he’s just trying to do good samaritan things and help you out so you don’t fail the damn midterm test.

“okay then, see you,” he says, picking up his bag and slinging it around his shoulders, only to have you grab his wrist. “what?”

you look a little bashful once you realise what you did, and then you let go of him immediately. you look like you really want to say something, but you don’t, you just shake your head.

don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it.

sae’s putting his bag back down before he knows it, and he groans internally. “say it.”

“if-if you don’t mind, maybe we could schedule a tutoring session every week?” you’re so, so timid and so, so soft.

he blinks once, twice, realising what you actually mean to say. you don’t want the tutoring session, apart from logarithms you’re fine with pure numbers, but you want time. with him.

it boosts his ego a little, if he’s being honest.

“i’m too busy with my soccer trainings,” he tells you, nonchalant until he sees how quick your expression falls and then he has to hate himself for continuing, “i have some time on friday evenings though.”

like a puppy, you’re instantly chirpy again, saying how maybe he could tutor you after he’s done with whatever stuff, and how you’d get a head start and grab some seats at a cafe or something.

you’re both seventeen when your weekly tutoring sessions start. it’s beyond himself why he agreed. all he knows is that he doesn’t particularly like being the reason your expression goes sad.

first week in, you’re still too nervous, too jumpy.

the second week, you’re a little too full of nonsense, daring to laugh at him, or with him, depending.

by the fifth week, your bare arm is already brushing his and you’re not even flinching.

you’re both seventeen when sae realises that maybe he cares for you. in the way lovers do. in the way he gets you to walk on the safer side of the sidewalk. in the way he sends you home every friday. in the way he actually responds to your goodnight texts and wakes up waiting for your good morning.

in the way he listens when you tell him that your mother is actually sick, that you want to take care of her. that your dream is simple—to find your passion one day, and to be able to earn enough to let your mother live peacefully, to help her fight whatever she has to because you don’t want her to be alone.

in the way, for the first time in his life, he reaches out to you, putting his hand on top of yours as he lets you cry on his shoulder.

your birthday falls on a friday this year, and he tells you not to bring your books that day in class. you look at him with pure shock, but then quickly adjust yourself and bring up a grateful smile.

“yes, sir.”

that night he meets you up on the rooftop of your complex, in the middle of the carpark, and you’ve never looked any happier than you did when you saw him holding that petite round galaxy cake in his hands, the sparkler candles so pretty in the night.

“happy birthday.”

𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

the next school year starts and sae enters into it still close to you as ever. you haven’t met in just over a month, what with sae’s intense training camps and your family holiday. but the both of you still talk to each other daily, and he finds himself waiting for your response every night.

it’s like the both of you are in a relationship, but neither of you are saying anything about it. whatever this relationship-non-relationship is, sae thinks he likes it.

but it’s barely three months into the school year and sae has to break your heart.

“it’s the opportunity of a lifetime, i’m sure you understand right?” his coach rambles on, disgusting with how he’s talking with his mouth full and chips keep falling out of it.

sae nods, because he does. he’s almost sure he’ll go for it. it’s not everyday kids from japan get offered a spot to play for a european club.

“great! so let’s get your parents involved and get you to spain.”

“yeah, sure.”

it’s frustrating how he’s not more excited. it’s there, but it’s faint, because it’s lingering on the traces of his feelings for you. he’s never really thought this far, and maybe that was his fault. he’ll keep that in mind; he can’t risk this situation again. he can’t risk getting your hopes up and being the reason that they’ll never recover.

minimise damage, yeah, that’s what he has to do.

you go from talking endlessly in class to being quiet because sae is trying to concentrate. you go from meeting every friday outside of school to every other friday, to once every month, to none at all. you go from texting a good morning and a goodnight every day to barely getting responses from sae, barely ever even get your messages read.

then one day sae just doesn’t show up to school at all. and you finally hear that he’s been scouted for a club in spain, that he’s going to be away for god knows how long. and then you realise that maybe that’s why he’s been distant lately, because you refuse to believe that the sae who took so much time out of his busy schedule for you, the sae who made the effort to buy you a birthday cake and spend all night on the carpark just listening to you talk on and on about insignificant things because you were nervous, the sae who you fell in love with—you refuse to believe it wasn’t real.

that’s why you hold your hopes up and ride your bicycle to his house, which you’ve been to once before, just outside though, because you’d asked him where he lived and he finally obliged. it’s still beautiful as ever, neat garden lined with flowers and a soccer field in the back.

when you knock on the gate, you see a familiar face come out; it’s itoshi rin, his younger brother. you only know that because sae’s spoken about him a few times, and you saw a picture of the both of them together on his phone.

“oh, um, hi, who are you?” rin asks, cautiously, because evidently, he’s never seen you.

“uh, i’m one of sae’s… classmates,” you decide, and it stings that you realise you can’t even say that anymore. how did it all spiral from cloud nine? “is he home?”

rin blinks a few times. his lower lashes are slightly longer than sae’s, he’s carrying a soccer ball, and you just know he’s been training all day because he’s sweating from head to toe. sae has said rin wanted to be a striker just like him.

“oh, didn’t you hear? my big bro got scouted, he left for spain last night.”

it shouldn’t be this upsetting—he isn’t even your boyfriend. no matter how much you wanted him to be. he was just… someone you studied with, spent time with, made efforts for.

but something forms in the pit of your stomach when you hear that sae’s already gone, that he’s already halfway to spain without even saying goodbye, without giving you any warning.

you’d thought whatever friendship you had with him was worth more than a silent goodbye, than a one-sided decision.

“o-oh, okay, thanks!”

you bolt off before rin can say anything else, it’s better that no one can see you crying anyway.

that night once you’ve sort of calmed down, you open up sae’s message thread, which as of late is mostly a string of messages from you and sae only replying with oh or i see or i’m busy.

the last time he even bothered replying to you was last week when you asked if he wanted to watch a movie together and he said a simple no.

“you’re an ass, itoshi sae,” you cry to yourself as you bring up the keyboard on your phone, your tears falling onto the screen.

i hate you, itoshi sae.

𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

soccer is the same; thrilling, tiring, demanding.

it’s been a year since he left japan and he’s still surviving, still thriving, still being revered as a genius midfielder. sae knows he has what it takes to bring victory to a good enough team, that’s what he came here for anyway—to be the best in the world.

“good job out there, sae,” the captain claps him on the back, but sae’s mind isn’t there.

it’s been a year since he left japan and he still pulls up the last message you ever sent him.

i hate you, itoshi sae.

perhaps it’s good that you do. there’s no place for your dreams in spain, or anywhere else in the world except for japan. you need to move on from him. maybe you already did, from what he hears from his classmates who still check in on him from time to time.

the first time sae hears about how some other guy asked you out, he can’t say he doesn’t care. but he’s relinquished his right to be jealous, so he barely responds to the news.

but maybe he’s beginning to see where he fucked up, because he shouldn’t have gotten close to you in the first place, should’ve just left you alone.

instead now he’s left with this sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. is this how it feels like to really miss someone?

𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘

you’re now in college and you’re past whatever happened in high school. itoshi sae still lingers in the crevices of your mind, with his teal eyes and his pretty lashes and the way his hand felt when they were on top of yours.

some part of you thinks you’d never get over him, but you have to make peace with that. just because he never bothered to give you closure doesn’t mean he should be allowed to ruin your life.

besides, you’re pretty sure he read what you last sent him. there’s really nothing else for you to do if he doesn’t even bother talking to you.

you’d been trying to properly move on anyway, and that’s exactly what you try to do later that night, after accepting ryusei shido’s invitation to dinner.

he’s like the opposite of sae, though. he’s all expressive and goofy and wild because he’s got you trespassing on private property just to borrow their garden and he likes to drive fast, really fast, because he loves the wind in his hair.

if you had met him first, you’d probably be in love with the rush he gives you, the adrenaline pumping through your veins. when he kissed you, if only you didn’t have itoshi sae in your head, then maybe you’d have kissed him back.

when you’re twenty, you find out that maybe you can’t move on without giving itoshi sae a piece of your mind.

𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐎𝐍𝐄

sae’s career has been rapidly progressing, he’s part of the starting team and is hailed as one of the world’s up-and-coming top soccer stars.

the earlier game cemented it.

his team won, with the commentators naming him as the most valuable player, assisting in all the goals scored by his team.

when he’s pulled aside for an interview, he can’t help but wonder whether you’d be watching through the television, hanging on his every word. or maybe you’d already moved on with this shido guy he hears about.

fuck that shido guy.

and when an interviewer asks whether there’s anyone special in his life that motivates him, he finds himself wishing he could say your name.

“nothing of that sort.”

interviews pass by quickly, as they always do for him because he’s not much of an interview guy, with his stoic expressions and lacklustre responses. he’s on the way back to the locker room when he hears a familiar voice calling out to him.

“sae!”

he spins around to find his mother and father there, surprising him. they must’ve heard he was playing and booked a flight out. rin’s not here though.

“rin’s busy with some soccer matches of his own back at home,” his father explains, as if he read his mind. “he couldn’t make it, but he’s surely watching the match from home.”

how silly of sae to have wished that it was you calling out to him, for that split second. you’re still in his head, and that’s annoying.

“oh! sweetheart,” his mother coos after she’s done gushing over his game, “we ran into one of your friends earlier! what’s her name—ah wait there she is!”

sae furrows his brows, following his mother’s gaze and finds you there, hugging the walls, sheepishly waving your hand at him. he’s starting to doubt his vision, maybe you’re just his imagination, maybe his mother’s looking at someone else.

“hey, sae,” you greet him, mellow and polite.

he’s still standing there like he’s the one who’s starstruck, like you’re the famous one. are you really here?

“what are you doing here?”

not the best greeting, but that’s the most he can muster when he hasn’t seen or heard from you in over three years.

you smile, and he thinks he might melt, but he doesn’t because he’s just told—lied to—the world that there’s no one special to him.

“what’s wrong with supporting one of my friends?” you say, as though this is a neighbourhood soccer match and you didn’t have to fly halfway across the world for it.

“itoshi! get in here!” by the sound of his voice, it’s the captain talking. sae doesn’t even want to take his eyes off of you, but he has to.

“go,” you tell him, “i’m staying near the airport, if, uh, you wanted to do anything afterwards.”

does he?

sae swallows the lump in his throat and nods. “yeah, okay.”

that night, he figures out which hotel you’re staying at and pays you a visit—it annoys him how fast his heart is beating and how your sudden presence threatens to mess up his life.

he knocks on your door, and you open it, beaming at him when you see him. “i thought we were meeting at the restaurant,” you say as you let him in, closing the door behind him.

“i was just passing by, sent my parents to the airport and thought i would just drop by,” he answers, lying through his teeth. his parents are still somewhere in spain and he just wanted to see you sooner, that’s all.

“well, i’m still getting ready,” you tell him, straightening your dress and looking at yourself in the mirror.

how is it possible you keep getting prettier everyday? your hair’s a little longer now, and you look more mature, you’ve learned to do makeup, and your dress hugs your body in just the right places. he’s cursing himself for staring at you.

“i thought you’d be too busy to come out with me tonight, honestly,” you confess, putting on some lipstick.

sae has to look away, “and i thought you hated me.”

that has you stopping in your tracks; this conversation happened earlier than you expected, but you’d been gunning for this all the same.

“yeah, well you left japan without saying a word to me, like i was just anyone else.”

he understands why you’d think that. that was what he was going for anyway, and it reminds him what he should be doing instead of entertaining you right now. sae should be rejecting you, you and your efforts, should turn away from you like you’re another one of his fangirls.

“why?”

but the shakiness in your voice takes him off guard.

“why what?”

“why didn’t you say anything?”

“i didn’t have to,” sae responds, simply, like he doesn’t owe you a damn thing.

“was i imagining it?” you ask, finally turning around and looking him in his eyes.

no, no you weren’t.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“then why are you here, sae?” you burst out, and he stills in his position, feet glued to the floor. “you wouldn’t give a second thought to people you don’t care about, so what now?”

“i was just taking an old friend out to dinner, that’s all.”

he’s stubborn, so so stubborn. he’s hoping he’ll hold out.

“i don’t get you,” you mutter softly, to yourself or to him, he doesn’t even fucking know.

sae really shouldn’t, but he thinks about how he might never see you again and tries, “what do you want?”

“what are you talking about?”

“do you know what you want?” sae turns it around on you. “you flew halfway across the world to get here, for what? for me?”

he’s intimidating when he speaks a little louder than usual, and you shrink back just slightly.

“i-i wanted to talk to you,” you try your hardest to form an excuse but it’s not working.

“and what did you want out of that?”

you fall flat, and you feel like giving up. you know the answer, but you don’t want to admit it. you don’t want to tell him that you wanted him to want you too, you don’t want to admit that you’ve been thinking about him nearly all the time and what could’ve been.

“just forget it,” you relent, averting your gaze, but the next moment you feel an unfamiliar sensation on your lips, the taste of his on yours.

sae doesn’t know why he’s doing it, but his body moves on its own; something he got from playing that manages to bleed into his daily life, apparently.

you taste so much better than he expected, and you feel like you belong in his arms, like you’re made for him because there’s absolutely no one else in the whole fucking world who could ever bring itoshi sae to his knees.

he’s been in denial all this time, yes, and he’s tired of it. if you came all the way here, he’s not wasting it. he pulls away from you, absolutely dazed by the wanting look in your eyes.

you’re twenty one years old when you first hear itoshi sae telling you he loves you.

𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐖𝐎

“someone’s chirpy,” your mother says from the couch, looking up from her ipad. “i sense… a date with sae.”

you roll your eyes, throwing one of the cushions at her. “mom, shut up,” you groan, still embarrassed whenever she calls you out for it.

sae’s still in spain most of the time, but the both of you make it work. you make a point to video call at least twice a week, and he responds to you like a normal boyfriend does. it’s back to that good morning, goodnight love you shared back in high school. he makes as much time as he can, and you appreciate him for it.

“i’m glad you’re happy, sweetie,” she tells you, and you smile gratefully.

you’re more than relieved now that she’s managed to fight the cancer off. it’s the only reason she pushed you to go see sae last year. you technically wouldn’t have done it without her.

a knock on your door signals that he’s here, and your mom gives you a knowing look before she excuses herself to her room.

when you open the front door, you feel a burst of excitement when you see sae there holding a bouquet of flowers.

“happy birthday, pretty.”

even when he’s busy, even when he’s swamped, he’ll never stop making you feel like you’re on top of the world.

both of you are twenty-two when sae decides that you’re his world.

𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

this is the year you find out long distance is actually really really hard.

sometimes sae loses the match, and sometimes he can’t separate friend from foe from you. he gets frustrated, and so you do too. he has less than kind words when he’s venting, and you happen to be on the receiving end.

sometimes you get stressed from your finals projects, and you push him away, and sae leaves you to it. sae doesn’t check up on you as much as you’d like to, and you’re a little too stubborn to tell him that you mind.

sometimes sae would get interviewed and would have to address dating rumours, whether it’s the upcoming supermodel from america or that renowned sexy sports photographer from brazil—it’s hard not to get jealous, especially when you’re kept private.

you can’t blame him for that, not when everyone likes to send hate to the pretty girl he’s supposedly dating.

this is also where you find out that itoshi sae knows you better than anyone. it’s where he always leaves you a reminder he loves you, even when you’re fighting. it’s where he sends you a goodnight text even when you’ve hung up the phone hours ago in anger. it’s where he keeps japan in his weather app just so he can tell you not to be a klutz and fall down when it’s raining. it’s where he declares on international television that no, he’s not available but that’s none of their business.

even if you yearn for him to be next to you at times, sae’s off doing what he’s always wanted to do, and you’re not going to let yourself be a burden—so you do what you want to do, because the last thing you want the headlines to blast is the fact that itoshi sae’s girlfriend is a good-for-nothing.

twenty-three is the age where you start writing articles for a local magazine company, where you take lead on fashion articles while occasionally helping with the sports section.

𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑

both of your careers are in full flight.

so is your relationship.

sae’s always proud of you, of your achievements, of your efforts even if they didn’t bear fruit. you’re doing so well, making yourself a name in Japan with your articles, with your wonderful insights and funny wit.

he always reads your articles, tells his assistant to get a subscription on the magazine and send it to sae’s hotel, always reads the articles you write. he doesn’t tell you about that though. doesn’t want you getting a big head.

and every time you talk on the phone about your articles and how hard it was to write or how you’re afraid people will take it the wrong way, he acts like he doesn’t even know which article you’re talking about. (he absolutely does.)

“hey, when’s my contract ending again?”

sae’s assistant looks up from his ipad from his seat across him on the private jet. he blinks twice before rifling through his different folders.

“oh, next year.”

a ghost of a smile appears on sae’s face and his assistant thinks he’s hallucinating.

“good.”

𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄

sae is twenty-five years old when he finally decides he’s ready to come home.

it makes the headlines—how he quit the club and refused to play for them anymore, the reason being that he wants to go back to his roots.

back to you.

because now, at your front door, after he knocks once, twice, and you open it, surprised, sae’s never been more sure that he’s making the right decision.

after all, you’re the only one in the world capable of bringing itoshi sae to his knee.

“will you marry me?”

kageyama tobio x f!reader 

tags: virgin reader, overstimulation, vibrator, mild dacryphilia, praise kink

kageyama has you caged within his arms, convulsing on his lap as he holds the small vibrator to your clit. when you told him that you’d never cum before, he was determined to show you how good orgasms could be.

he’s still fully clothed, but you’re naked, leaning against his broad chest, his legs holding yours open for his use. you’ve cum twice already in the past fifteen minutes, but he won’t stop.

“tobio, i—it’s too much—“ you whimper, struggling against his arms, but he just buries his face in the crook of your neck, his hold on the vibrator unrelenting.

“just making you feel good…” he murmurs quietly, his lips grazing your skin.

wirh every vibration your body jerks involuntarily, the sensitivity from earlier orgasms overwhelming you. unknowingly you start to cry as the coil in your stomach tightens again.

kageyama lets out a satisfied grunt, picking up the tears with his tongue. you can feel the insistent bulge poking your ass, the way he intermittently thrusted up against you.

“give me another one,” he demands and you want to tell him no—you can’t—it’s too much—but you can’t form the words, little gasps and hiccups spilling out of your mouth instead.

“be a good girl and i’ll put my cock inside you after this,” kageyama tells you, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, “fuck my little virgin till she cums again…”

he raises his other hand to fondle your breasts and suddenly you’re cumming again, your pussy gushing against the plastic toy, sobbing tobio, tobio, tobio. he slides it against your clit again and again until your orgasm subsides, your body still wracked with shivers.

“you did so good,” he clutches your jaw, turning your face towards him, “can’t wait to fuck you, baby.”

the comfort of not knowing

rindou never felt the need for love. not until he learned that he could get it from you. not until you became the very personification of such an abstract idea. suddenly, you are love—and he needs you in all of his days.

warnings: vulgar language. sex talk. alcohol use.

part two

rindou haitani had his fair share of girls before. don’t get him wrong—nothing was serious. they were mostly hookups and if not, just casual dates he did not want to be a part of but had to go anyway because his brother set him up. 

he did not mind the loneliness, really. he rarely even felt it. sure, he sees ran, sanzu, kakucho, and everyone else in bonten with their girls but they were all temporary. they come and go, most of the time faster than the seasons change. rindou never understood the need for it aside from momentary pleasure that would fade in seconds. he never felt the need to have those too if they were bound to end anyway. 

a waste of time, as he likes to call it.

Keep reading

don’t look too close (m)

stalker!bokuto kōtarō x fem!reader

warnings: tw yandere, tw stalking, tw implied kidnapping, implied voyeurism, mentions of murder, (consensual) nsfw, rough sex

word count: 3.8k

day 2/9 of candy corn

the most beautiful person in the world? the most intelligent, the funniest, the sweetest, the kindest person who hangs the sun and the stars and the moon in the sky, who makes the world spin, who makes the air feel light and refreshing? the one who makes bokuto’s life worth living, the one who permeates his thoughts from the moment he wakes to the moment he’s drifting into sleep?

you.

you’re his soulmate, bokuto knows it. he knew it from his very first day at college when he saw you buying your coffee- an iced vanilla frappucino- and he could feel the rhythmic thumping of his heartbeat change. now it only pounded for you, the love of his life.

he just thinks you’re so sweet, especially when you’re leaving your house every morning and you always stop by the fence, blessing your young, handsome neighbour with your stunning smile as you two chat. bokuto thinks you’re so kind, the way you shyly laugh at the neighbour’s flirtatious lines and that you always lend him sugar and milk when he runs out and you once even baked him a tray of sweet-smelling cookies but it simply won’t do- bokuto is the only one who can love you so protecting you from your grey-haired neighbour was worth it to see you look dejected when your neighbour suddenly loses his job at the local elementary school and has to move back to his hometown, hoping the stain of the anonymous complaint won’t cling to him there too.

you’re also so smart, bokuto observes. he likes hearing your pretty voice explain the writer’s use of symbolism in the play to your classmate, some skinny, scrawny boy with deep green hair and freckles. he looks at you too much like bokuto does though, eyes wide and sparkling which bokuto tries to appreciate- you really are amazing- but you’re his. so it’s a shame but all for the greater good when your classmate suddenly starts to avoid you like the plague, his eyes wide with something akin to fear and stammering a weak excuse when you do try to approach him.

bokuto thinks you’re so goofy when you’re cooking in the kitchen, pop music playing from your speakers as you dance around, the aroma of spices hanging in the air as you use the wooden spoon as a microphone. he thinks you’re so cute how your eyes glaze with tears and you sniffle into your blanket when you’re watching some drama on the television and you always smell so sweet- he isn’t quite sure what the scent is but he’ll remember to look closely at your perfumes the next time he’s in your bedroom- it’ll make a nice birthday present for you in exactly three months time. he thinks you look so mesmerising when you study, a little crease between your brows and hair bundled out of the way as you think hard, you’re just so smart. and he really likes the tidy hairstyle you wear when you're working; with all those pretty locks tied up, you can barely notice the big chunk bokuto just had to take from you to keep in his pocket so he can feel you all day. your hair is so silky and smells sweetly of honey and cinnamon he just had to buy the same shampoo too.

but bokuto’s favourite part of you is when night falls and your room glows with orange candlelight. you look so sensual when you undress yourself, your body so beautiful that he wants to trace his fingers over every inch of you and kiss every part of you. he’s mesmerised when you lie down on your bed, hand disappearing between your legs. you look so pretty, every sinful face you make as you stuff your cunt full of your fingers and fuck yourself till you’re cumming, mouth parted open with a name bokuto imagines is his own. you make him feel so different, so hot and flustered and overcome with need that he always tries to time his own climax with yours, fisting his cock and biting his lip to stifle his deep moans as he releases all over his own hand. sometimes he just wants to remember it forever, remember every part of you forever so that’s why he has his phone camera pointed towards you, no matter what you’re doing.

but most of all, bokuto’s thankful that despite many of your amazing qualities being observant is not one of them. he’s glad you don’t notice his golden eyes peering into your windows, watching you when you’re getting out of the shower and dropping your towel to reveal your wet, glistening body. you don’t notice the constant second shadow trailing after you when you’re walking through empty streets, headphones blasting music and blocking out the world and his footsteps and loud presence behind you. you don’t notice the creaking floorboards when you’re sleeping in your bedroom and brush off the sounds of clattering outside your home as a stray cat, the shadow that switches off the television you’ve kept on and setting an extra alarm to make sure you don’t oversleep, and it’s even better that you’re so unobservant because you don’t notice just how many panties have seemingly gone missing from your laundry basket. you don’t notice that the cctv image of the grey-haired suspect who was last seen by the canal where your ex-boyfriend’s body turns up, battered and bruised, looks eerily similar to the man who sat at the table behind you at the cafe where your ex-boyfriend revealed he was cheating on you, leaving you a sobbing, heartbroken mess. you don’t notice the golden eyes that watch your boss from your part-time job harass you in the empty car park, his groping hands going too far, only he never shows up for work again. his wife begs on the news surrounded by reporters for him to come home.

it’s time now.

the taste of alcohol is fiery on bokuto’s lips but it doesn’t match the warmth in his chest, the electrifying exhilaration he feels when he watches you over the flashing coloured lights from across the crowded room. you’re with a group of friends, smiling and laughing as you sway your hips in tune to the thumping music, looking absolutely delectable in the short, black dress, face painted as a cracked china doll. he doesn’t mind that you’re with friends- after all, he’s made sure they’re suitable to be in your life and just in case they do happen to mess up and hurt you he’s gathered useful information: the tall red haired man has a peanut allergy, the younger blonde girl doesn’t have a fire alarm installed in her apartment and the pretty, black-haired girl with glasses drives a car and a number of things can go innocently wrong with that.

he watches you carefully, waiting for the moment you finally pant something to your friends then you’re walking away, swaying slightly from how many drinks you’ve downed. this is bokuto’s chance, his heart drumming and butterflies fluttering in his stomach as he grins, tossing his drink into some random plant pot as he follows after you into the kitchen. the hallways and rooms are filled with people, the garden overspilling too as the music blares, a heavy stench of alcohol and sweat lingering but that’s halloween college parties and bokuto’s only here for one reason.

“anything good in there?” his voice is bright and cheerful even though his heart is pounding too fast when he steps behind you, admiring the curve of your ass visible under the short hem of your skirt as you bend over to rifle through the fridge.

“barely anything- but what do you expect from a frat house?” your voice is honey and your smile so beautiful and radiant bokuto feels like he’s going to faint when you stand up straight and face him. you look gorgeous, even under the slightly-tangerine lightbulbs, your makeup half-faded and skin greasy with oils, bokuto has never thought you’ve looked any more wonderful and now you’re really here, you’re really here smiling at him and speaking to him. “i’m y/n.” he thinks it’s cute the way you introduce yourself like he doesn’t know you already, like he doesn’t know your birthday, your high school, your parents’ names and where they work and what elementary school your older sister’s kids go to.

“bokuto kōtarō.”

he notices your eyes scanning his face before they slowly rake down his body, taking in his broad shoulders and muscular arms that ripple underneath his short-sleeved t-shirt, his veiny hands and a smirk grows when your eyes widen as they drop down to his crotch, down his thighs. he feels light inside, almost dizzy and giddy.

“have we met before?” you ask shyly, tilting your head as you look back up at his face. your eyes narrow slightly with intrigue. “you feel so familiar, like i’ve seen you around before or met you somewhere possibly?” bokuto quickly shakes his head- he isn’t a complete idiot and his friend kenma, the one who introduced him to all the secret reddit threads and discord servers of how to go about finally getting the love you’ve been pining over, taught him enough of how to go about this. so bokuto smiles gently as he shakes his head, locking his gleaming gold eyes with yours.

“i don’t think we have- i’d have remembered meeting a girl as beautiful as you.”

bokuto knew it would work- after all, akaashi had provided him with plenty of pick up lines- but the thrill of seeing you get so visibly flustered, a shy smile tugging at your lips as you chuckle, is incomparable. he’s never felt so whimsical before but it encourages him more, akaashi and kuroo’s advice ringing in his mind as he steps closer to you, not bearing to tear his gold eyes away from yours.

“do you say that to every girl, bokuto?”

“no, only beautiful girls like you.”

you gaze at bokuto softer now, your eyes growing warm as a gentle smile tugs at your lips.

“stop flattering me.” you suddenly laugh, looking away as you draw your arms around yourself. he can see you’re hurting still, the pain of being cheated on and then the grief of your ex-boyfriend dying, male friends drifting away when they consistently avoid you and no other men being interested in you anymore. but it’s okay, bokuto’s heart wrenches with guilt for you- it really does- but he won’t hurt you like they all would. he loves you more than anyone else. he’s the only one worthy of you.

with a bit of smooth talking, flirtatious compliments, extra shots of cheap tequila that burns the back of his throat and gentle touches, bokuto has you right where he wants you: hanging onto his arm as you accompany him to his apartment. the cold october air is crisp, leaves crunching under your feet and the sound of music from halloween house parties thumping in the distance. house porches are glowing orange as eerie jack-o-lanterns sneer at you walking past, the heavy gusts of wind howling through bare trees like alarms, the darkness of the sky overpowering the silvery glow of the moon as you chatter away to him, laughing at all his sporadic remarks. it makes his heart feel like gold, like he’s special to you.

bokuto’s lips are on yours the moment you both step into his apartment, the door slamming shut behind him with a click of the lock. you taste bitter with alcohol but so sweet nonetheless, it makes his head spin to finally be kissing you, his arms wrapping around and pulling you close. you’re just as hungry, fingers threading through his soft grey locks and he can’t even think- he can smell your sweet scent and touch you freely, things he could only do gently in the dead of the night when you’re fast asleep, sick with anxiety just in case you stir.

“kōtarō,” you sigh against his lips, pressing your forehead against his with his saliva glistening off your lips. you’re pressing yourself into him, tilting your head back to allow him to trace open-mouthed kisses down your neck. your voice is so husky with lust it makes bokuto’s cock so hard, straining against his jeans. the beautiful sounds he’s imagined you’d make, the way your ass would feel in his hands, what it’d feel like to grope your tits and finally be inside you, having you cum on his cock and moan his name- it’s finally coming true for him. he can’t let it go, growling as he bites hard on your delicate skin, making you yelp out. “please fuck me!”

it’s the words he’s always wanted to hear, moaning into your wet, bruised skin as his big hands grip the underside of your thighs.

“jump, baby.” you do as he says, clinging to his neck and pressing hot, needy kisses to his flushed throat as he carries you to his bedroom. he’s desperate, throwing you on the bed and grinning as he climbs over you, kissing you messily with his tongue sliding into your mouth and his fingers yanking at your dress impatiently. you yelp into his mouth at the feeling of his rough fingers tugging your clothes off but you’re still as hungry, hands reaching for the hem of his t-shirt, the kiss only breaking reluctantly when to pull his top off but bokuto tries to prolong it as much as possible, his teeth clinging to your swollen bottom lip.

“you’re so hot.” he moans when you reach for his belt, his eyes fluttering shut when your hands brush his clothed erection. “i’ve been waiting for this for too long.” it’s a good thing you’re too lost in lust to notice anything, your mind cloudy with the wetness dampening your panties. “you don’t know how hard you make me, how much i feel for you.” whilst you’re reaching into the waistband of his boxers for his dick, it feels sweet, romantic even. the past few months had sudden gotten so lonely for you it’s no reason why you sidle closer to bokuto, your eyes wide as you cling to his words.

“oh my-” you lick your lips as you pull out his hard cock, your fingers just about fitting around his thick girth. he’s painfully hard, the head an angry red and precum dribbling from the slit, bokuto hissing when you swipe your thumb across. “you’re massive.” your words make him still, his cock twitching in your fist as he groans.

“you’re too good to me, you’re perfect, just so perfect.” he’s mumbling as he meets his lips again in a messy kiss, moaning as you stroke him whilst his rough fingers delve into your panties, rubbing fast at your clit that you miss the words he sighs into your mouth. “you’re even more perfect that i thought you’d be.”

his fingers grow wet with your slick as he provides you sweet, warm pleasure, his tongue exploring all depths of your mouth as you stroke him, enjoying his deep grunts when you rub at the sensitive cockhead. but you can tell he’s getting impatient when he bucks up into your hand, thrusting his cock into your fist.

“i need to fuck you.” he breaks away from your lips, a thin string of saliva trailing from his tongue to yours as he pushes you down flat on the bed. “please, please, i need to fuck you.”

“kōtarō,” your voice is gentle as you rub his muscular thigh comfortingly, surprised to hear the way he sounds so close to tears. “please do.”

you sigh at the cold air hitting your wet folds when bokuto peels down your lacy panties, hissing at the strings of slick that cling to the dark fabric.

“so beautiful.” he groans, spreading your legs apart and tapping his cock against your swollen clit, making you jerk and whine at the stimulation. “i’m going to treat you so well.” his eyes are fixated with watching his cock disappear into into your dripping hole, your high moans filling the room as your walls squeeze him tight.

“kōtarō-” you choke out, eyes watering. “you’re so- ah- big!”

“you’re too good to me, y/n.” he grunts, wincing at the bittersweet pain of your nails clawing down his back as he presses his chest flush against yours, grinding his pubic bone against your clit. your eyes look so pretty, sparkling as you gaze at bokuto- it’s all he’s wanted, all he’s ever wanted and he can’t have it end. he’ll make this heaven for you.

every thrust is so sweet and delicious to bokuto, your walls hugging his thick cock as he fucks you, your moans a symphony harmonising with his. it feels so good, so fucking good to be kissing you, to be deep inside you and thrusting against your gummy walls and bruising your neck with biting, possessive kisses because you’re his, you’re finally his.

“you feel so good,” he breathes against you, his hips snapping against yours messily over the sound of your sopping cunt squelching. “your pussy’s squeezing me so tight- fuck-”

“kōtarō!” you’re whining his name, hips rising to meet his thrusts as you snake a hand between your bodies, rubbing at your clit and eyes rolling to the back of your head whilst bokuto wraps his lips around your swollen nipples. he sucks hard, nibbling on the sensitive nud to hear you yelp, your other hand clinging to his bicep with your nails piercing into his skin.

“wait, i want to see your pretty, tight pussy take my fat cock.”

bokuto slides out of you, grinning when you whine at the emptiness as he grips you and flips you over, pulling your ankles and pushing your head down into the mattress as you arch your ass up. “that’s it, princess- face down, ass up. look at that pretty cunt. all mine.” his mind is hazy, too focused on sliding his cock back into your quivering hole, mesmerised by the way your tight pussy sucks his glistening cock back in, your slick dripping down your thighs as you whine out into the mattress.

“fuck! make me cum, i want to cum all over your cock.” hungry and desperate, bokuto growls as he fucks you, his balls lewdly slapping against your ass as he fucks you hard, slapping your ass between gripping your hips so hard you’ll be left with bruises.

“i’m going to make you cream all over my cock, i’m going to make you scream my name.” he’s panting through his moans, fucking you even deeper and spanking your ass harder, your skin’s almost welting. he groans as your walls clamp down harder on his twitching cock. “are you going to cum for me? cum for me.” his nails scrape your scalp as his hand clutch your hair, yanking you by it as you cry out. you’re a mess, your nails catching onto bokuto’s hand that grips your hair, tears streaming down your cheeks and drool spilling from your lips that are stretched out with not cries of pleasure falling from you but cries of anguish.

“stop, it hurts!” you cry but bokuto can’t stop, silencing you by slobbering wet kisses over your cheek and jaw. “you’re too deep- it’s too much- stop!”

“cum for me first.” he growls. it can’t end yet. he’s finally fucking you, the love of his life and even though you’re trembling and sobbing, he can’t stop yet. “cream all over my cock and become all mine first. fuck- cum now!” you can’t hold back any longer, sobbing and almost screaming when your sore, abused walls convulse around bokuto’s throbbing length and you’re gushing all over him, your wetness dripping down his cock and your thighs as he fucks you through your high, groaning when your tight cunny pulls an orgasm from him, his hot seed filling you.

the moment he lets go of you, you collapse onto the bed, gasping for air as you stare out at the wall ahead of you, dizzy and dazed. the photographs strung up with the yellow orbs of fairylights are a blur- but they remind you of your own home, your own bedroom which you just crave so bad. you don’t want to be here. not anymore. bokuto’s cum drips out of you slowly, his heavy pants too loud for you as you shake, tears slowly streaming down your cheeks, your body aching. you can’t even bear to look at him, instead staring at the photographs on the wall as your teary vision begins to sharpen.

“kōtarō, you should’ve stopped-” you freeze, your heart stopping. the rush of hormones fades and the cloudiness in your mind dissipates as you quickly sit up, edging closer to the headboard against the wall.

“y/n?” bokuto sounds confused behind you as you press your hands against the wall, your face falling with horror.

photographs. all of you. your face smiling when you’re enjoying an iced coffee with your friend. your face contorted into a studious frown as you study in the library. your face when you’re doing grocery shopping, when you’re cooking, when you’re in the bath, when you’re pleasuring yourself, when you’re sleeping.

“you psycho!” it’s a high shriek, your voice shaking as you scramble to get away from him, eyes wide with fear. bokuto looks confused, sat at the end of the bed naked as he gazes at you. was that hurt in his eyes? it makes you feel sick, your body feeling dirty as you hug yourself and scramble to find your clothes. but as you look around his bedroom, too much becomes clear. too much becomes familiar: your pink panties sitting on the pile of laundry on the chair; your hairbrush you misplaced on his dresser; the shampoo and perfume you wear there too and...was that your childhood teddy bear you thought you lost in one of the storage boxes when moving on his shelf? “what the fuck is wrong with you? you creep, you fucking creep!” your throat hurts as you shrink in on yourself at the opposite end of his bed, hugging yourself as bokuto stares at you, a little pout on his lips.

“y/n,” he says again. this time it’s slower, deeper. almost threatening. “don’t upset me. please.” his jaw clenches when your eyes flicker to his bedroom door, your heart hammering against your chest as you gasp for air. “it’ll make things harder for us. don’t make me sad.”

“h-harder for us? are you crazy?”

“i’m not crazy!” he yells it, his voice mixed with rage and sadness and his golden eyes don’t seem so warm anymore, not when his large hands are curled into fists and his teeth are bared.

“l-let me go. please.” it’s a futile last attempt but bokuto just exhales heavily, crawling up closer towards you with a cold grin stretching across his face.

“you’re mine now. everything i did was for you...how can i let you go when i love you?”

this was hades, not heaven.

it would’ve been better to have stayed blind.

a few pushes

paring: sakusa kiyoomi x fem reader

warnings: baby trapping, breeding kink, unprotected sex, manipulative sakusa, car sex, semi public sex, controlling behavior, possessiveness, jealousy, sakusa wants more, sexting, shower sex, abandonment issues, lack of communication, starstruck reader, nice reader meets evil & toxic sakusa

word count: 3.3k

english is not my first language. please excuse any mistakes

Because Sakusa was a clean person, when he decided to have a fuck buddy, he carefully handpicked one and stuck with one only. 

Locker room talk was always loud, but much louder these days with Hinata joining the team. Miya loved attentive listeners, Bokuto obviously wasn’t one. Sakusa couldn’t help but hear it one day when the blond setter was giving out tips on how to relieve stress after a long day and said sex was the best way. 

“Muscles? Relaxed,” Atsumu said, directly to Hinata, but all eyes were on him anyway considering how loud he was. “And imagine you lost a match.” The blond man hurriedly put one finger up before continuing, “I’m not jinxing anything. What I’m saying is–it’s just a way to–let the frustration out, you know? It works.”

Did it really? Sakusa doubted, recalling his first time with a childhood friend whom he soon fell out of touch with after and didn’t remember being relaxed nor fulfilled, only rushed and clumsy. Yet, that was years ago. What was life if not trying again and again to one’s utmost?

He thought of Atsumu's words, then he thought of you. 

You were this one girl from Itachiyama Institute who wasn't in the same class as him but went to every game Sakusa played. It was safe to say you were his fan after overhearing you talking to someone in the library when he was trying to find the right material for his homework. 

“Who’s your favorite player?” a voice asked. “Mine is the captain.” 

“Iizuna?” you countered. 

“That’s his name? I don’t know, I only watched one game.” The voice giggled.

“Mine’s the ace. Sakusa Kiyoomi” 

Your answer made his wandering eyes halt before moving with their own volition from the spines of the books to the source of that response. He saw you for the first time that day. And every time after that. 

—

A normal occurrence was what you were. You were just there, respectful enough to never get close, never even tried. Sakusa’s brain registered your existence as a diluted consistency, not on the forefront of his mind but vivid enough to make him miss several receives in an important match when you didn’t show up. 

Sakusa scowled when he saw you at the next day’s match, having a mask on and trying your best to hold the coughs in. Half of his heart labeled you as a danger to society but the impulse to grab your shoulders and shake you was stronger, driving him to approach you for the first time after seeing you that day in the library two years ago. 

He had a mask on, hands in his jacket’s pockets. “God forbid people get their annual flu shot.”

You quickly retreated when he kept advancing, confusion shown clear as day on your face. “What?” 

What, indeed. Despite being in the same year, your paths rarely crossed. You never dreamed that one day you would get to talk to the curly-haired ace in person, let alone about a flu vaccine. And if someone had told you Sakusa would ask you to be his exclusively fuck buddy sometime in the near future, your brows would have furrowed for the rest of the day.  

College separated you both, connected again when you met his cousin, Komori, by chance and he told you Sakusa just joined MSBY Black Jackal and became a professional player. You wouldn’t miss seeing him on the court again for the world, so you went to the next game instead of working on your dissertation.  

The black, abyss-like eyes found yours not even fifteen minutes into the first set. They, however, never returned again throughout the game. For a second you thought he did not remember you, but when you lined up with other people for his signature and he got hold of the MSBY mascot plush merch you bought, he signed his name down and said, “Give me your phone.”

Like sorcery, you handed him what he asked. 

“Password,” he demanded curtly, and you gave him everything. The kid queuing after you sneaked his glance not so subtly, must have wondered why it took so long. 

He returned your phone after putting his number in and called out to get yours then moved on to the kid behind you without a word. 

It was like that with Sakusa, either it was the highschool him telling you to put your hands out so he could spray the hand sanitizer on or the current him texting you his game schedules and telling you to come, it was all the same—he never had to give reasons and you never needed them. 

You liked him, sure. Respected him, absolutely. More than that, you hoped he got everything he wanted, wished him nothing but the best. But the thing was you never really knew what he desired, had no clue how deep those pools of blackness that were his eyes ran and what lay beneath. You just said yes when he asked if he could pick you up because he wanted to talk to you about something, yes again when he asked you to kiss him, to be the one who crossed the boundary and made the first move. 

Surrounded by the quiet of his apartment’s parking lot late at night, Sakusa sat behind the wheel and waited for you to lean over the center console, eyes tracking every movement. When he felt the gentle brush of your lips on his, he went still and kept his lips closed, extra secured.

“Use your tongue.”

“But you—”

“Try harder then,” he said, almost taunting. “Coax me open.” 

And you tried, you swore you tried, to learn that all it took was you giving up and drawing back to finally make him open his mouth and snatch you by the nape of your neck to receive his kiss. All tongue and teeth… with a soft chuckle. 

At one point, you heard a faint honk and realized it was your back that touched the car horn. Sitting in Sakusa’s lap in the driver’s seat, your panties were long gone and half of his wrapped hard length was already in, he pushed you down fully just when you saw someone walk by from the corner of your eye. 

“They’ll see.” Your voice shook pathetically, your face buried in his heaving chest. “They will know.” 

“They are gone,” Sakusa whispered next to your ear. “Look. No one’s here.” 

But you wouldn’t dare. Calling his chest your new home, you hid.

“I said look.” 

He then gripped your chin and turned your face out towards the side window, and you wished the ground would open up and swallow you at that moment. The passersby were two people, they still hadn’t done unloading shopping bags from their car. You tried to be as still as the dead, but Sasuka’s cock ramming up in and out didn’t really vouch for that. He looked at them with you but much calmer. 

Your back hit the horn again and you knew it blared at full volume because the two passersby abruptly turned your way. 

“Darling,” he tutted. “You want them to see.” 

“No!” you cried.

Why didn’t he stop? Why did he only plunge deeper, hitting your sensitive spot just right in the most inappropriate moment? And why did the couple not stop staring this way?

Why did you come so hard your ears rang, only conscious enough to feel the pulse inside your pussy a moment later and nothing else?

“Miya was fucking right,” he mumbled, probably to himself cause you had no idea what he was talking about. To you, he said, “Can I have you?”

“What?” 

What, indeed. 

—

After getting the test results back from the health center and knowing for certain that you both were clean, Sakusa threw the rest of the condoms in the trash. Seeing that and getting railed till your eyes rolled and your pussy filled with his cum all in one night that you had to get a plan b the next morning, you knew you had to get on the pill.  

Sakusa knew, he asked when a reminder alarm went off one night, and you answered honestly that you had to take the birth control pill.

“Just—don’t want to forget,” you said. 

He didn’t comment but looked closely, at the pill, at you. 

The pro-athlete knew that this was a good call. You were in your last year of college about to graduate and he just started a career. But for some corrupted, selfish reason when he looked at the white pill you took, he hated it with passion. 

It was like being kept at arm’s length, not trusted enough, not wanted enough. It was petty, but Sakusa had always been greedy and you just never wanted a damn thing from him, always so polite and respectful—knowing your place. 

And as days went on, it drove him mad more often than he would like to admit, on the verge of screaming at you to stop taking only what he gave, to stop understanding boundaries and demand more of him. 

Never a call if not necessary, no texts if it was not answering some shit he sent before, not a hint of jealousy when some fans blatantly flirted with him, only the look of genuine delight that a lot of people seemed to admire him. Turned out it was him who enjoyed having you to himself a little too much, his embrace stayed locked all night from fear of you leaving before he woke.

Sakusa was not a lunatic, but he knew he was just a few pushes away from going deranged. Just a bit more. 

—

“I need to know what you’re up to, where you are. You gotta text me more,” said Sakusa casually while getting dressed one cold autumn morning, seven months into the agreement, “so I know you’re not out there fucking someone else behind my back.”

Your jaw dropped. “I would never.”

“Just a precaution. You barely talk to me.” 

“Oh.” 

“Text me.” 

And you did it without fail, sending him pictures, telling him where you were, what you did. Later on when you learned that he also liked to know who you were with, you told him that too. But lately the correspondence deviated slightly, going out of its day-update course to something—lewder. 

‘Outfit?’ 

He definitely knew what you wore since you never not stayed the night, and getting ready together in the morning had become a routine. Was it weird? Maybe. But if being a fuck buddy helped him with the stress and this was what it entailed, then you counted this as part of the agreement. You were fine with how everything turned out, really. Were you supposed to be fine? That was a question for another day. 

You texted back, ‘I’m in class. Can’t take a pic.’

He, on the other hand, could. The shirtless picture showed up in the chat, you had to lock the screen and put the phone face down as fast but also discreetly as you could. Any straying eye could have seen that, you thought, cursing Sakusa for his audacity.

Finding yourself in the nearest restroom a few minutes later, you got another message just when you were about to answer the previous one. 

‘Show me what you’re wearing down there.’

You did. 

‘Move the panties aside, let me see my pussy.’ 

He got a dirty mouth for someone who prided himself so much on cleanliness. 

‘You shouldn’t be wet. Weren't you in a lecture?’

You could hear him chuckle from here. He loved to do that, the mocking, the shaming before bestowing a soft pat on the head to soothe them all. 

‘Can’t wait to go home and lick it myself.’ 

Oh. 

‘Wish me luck on the game.’ 

“Go get them, tiger,” you whispered, but simply typed, ‘Good luck.’ 

There were so many things you didn’t say and didn’t know if you could. Like for you, he was one of the best players any team could ever ask for, had believed that since you first heard the ball made contact with Itachiyama’s gym floor and the thundering roar of the impact made you stop walking and look. You stood there, in front of the gym, eyes focused on the curly haired player, watching the practice till someone needed to get inside and asked you to move. 

He didn’t need luck.

That was before he came home and carried you to the bathroom straight away, the paper you were working on marked abandoned for the rest of the night. What you gathered while being pressed to the glass shower screen, breasts and cheek pushed harshly against the cold material was that Sakusa thought he needed luck.

MBSY lost the match. 

“Well, my good luck charm wasn’t with me,” he hissed. 

“You know that’s not—” An embarrassing whimper caused by a hard snap of Sakusa’s hips cut the sentence short. 

“You should always be with me. You have to. Promise me you will,” Sakusa ordered, one hand pulling on your hair till your head tilted from the force, the other still on your waist, squeezing hard like he wanted it to bruise. “Hurry. Say it.”

“I promise.” 

Promises made during sex weren’t meant to be kept, you thought. You just wanted to make him feel better, give him what he wanted. When he tugged you from the shower screen and turned you to face him, Sakusa’s mouth curved up into a thin smile, his raven curls all damp but framing his face just right. Dazzling as always.

A temporary beauty that could slip out of your hand at any given time. 

—

It didn’t take much to annoy Sakusa, he still glared at the little pill you took every day like it was his worst enemy; but tonight, Atsumu took the cake. 

“You look—strangely familiar.” Atsumu squinted his eyes at you. “Have I seen you before?”

As a matter of fact, he had. The agreement just hit a one-year mark, and you had been at numerous games before leaving with him every time in his car, of course Atsumu had seen you. The blond shithead just wanted to get the rise out of him.

“You have, Miya-san,” you answered politely. 

It was the first time he took you to a team dinner, first fucking time and this happened. 

“You and Omi-kun.” The speaker made a gesture with his hands, insinuating his curiosity in the relationship between you and his teammate. 

“I’m a friend from school.” 

The answer was too spontaneous, like it was on the tip of your tongue ready to be let out. And if that wasn’t the last push, Atsumu moving to sit in an empty seat next to you was the final nail in the coffin. 

—

“What are you looking for?” Sakusa asked, knowing damn well what you were trying to find. 

The weather outside the hotel room was pure heat and no wind, living up to its reputation Sakusa was aware of when he did the research to plan this one-week trip. It was somewhere far from Japan, people didn’t speak your language, and you didn’t have the pill with you. 

“I swear I put it right here.” You sounded so confused he almost pitied you. “Shit, how am I going to—urghhhh. Why am I like this? I forgot? Did I really?”

“If you don’t tell me, I don’t know how to help.” His voice came out sterner than he intended to. “What are you looking for?” 

“My pills—the birth control pill” You looked like you were going to cry. 

Then cry, he thought, thinking back to when he took the damn pills out of your bag and regretted nothing. Your lamenting, though, was getting on his nerves. 

“Are you trying to baby trap me?” Sakusa snarled.

Just like that, you looked at him like he had two heads. Sakusa could see your whole body tremble, voice quivering so bad when you tried to speak. 

“No.” You shook your head. “No, I’m—I’m going to search how to buy them here. Where’s my phone.” 

You looked for the device, found it, but Sakusa was fast in pulling it out of your hand again. 

“Liar,” he accused. 

“What?” Disbelief was written all over your face, voice went high-pitched. “What do you mean? I’ve been taking them for a year, never missed a day, I wouldn’t start now.”

“The missing pills say otherwise.” 

“I’m gonna buy—”

“Isn’t it too convenient, disappearing into thin air when traveling abroad to a country where you have no idea if birth control pills can be bought over the counter or prescribed easily.”

“We can buy condoms.”

“No,” said Sakusa, looking down at you who stood with tears brimming in both eyes. “We’ll do it raw, since that’s what you want.”

—

“Is this what you want?” he asked again when you slid down on his cock, pussy as soaked as your tear-stained face. “You want to use me.” 

Still trying to defend yourself, you muttered little nos. Because they were there, the pills, you remember exactly where you put them, checked it twice even. 

“Use me then.” Sakusa refused to touch you, to help. Rested against the headboard in all his naked glory, his cock fit perfectly inside you like it belonged there.

How did it come to this? From a spectator who admired him from afar to being this close, lifting yourself up and dropping down on his cock, not a part of your body he hadn’t cummed in or on, being called a baby trapper when you had no such plan. 

You could never do that to him, but it was also difficult to get out of his strong hold when you knew he was about to cum, tried and failed to pull yourself up so he could climax outside. 

Sakusa hugged your whole body to him, shooting ropes of white fluid deeper than you ever felt. He must have been real angry with you to be able to pull this off out of spite and kissed you later as if everything was fine. Tongue tasting salt from the tears, you heard Sakusa’s low moan and a string of words.

“Let’s make sure it takes.” 

—

The first four days were like that, staying in the hotel room and surviving on room service. The state of the room the maid had to see when they came in for a daily cleaning embarrassed you every time, but all you could do was smile bashfully and go sit with Sakusa on the balcony, waiting for them to be done. 

He always had sunglasses on when sitting outside on a rattan chair big enough to accommodate two people, and you would always be there with him, sometimes reading from the same book, laughing at the same time. It wasn’t all bad. 

Something in the way he looked at you changed after you cried your heart out and spilled your guts on the second night. You couldn’t quite grasp what it was, but his looks felt more intense and somewhat… determined. 

“Kiyoomi,” you called, head resting on his chest, hearing his heart skip a beat but it was probably all in your head, thoughts muddled after taking his cum for two days straight. “I was at the gym every day after school instead of going home to watch you move around the court,” you said, “passing the ball, receiving it, spiking it. You looked majestic doing that, you know?” 

“I never wish you harm.” It was a mystery how tears were infinite, fresh ones running down past the bridge of your nose and onto his chest. “I could never ruin your life.” 

His tone had never been more gentle when he muttered, “I know.” 

Never sounded so needy when he demanded, “Call me Kiyoomi again.” 

“Kiyoomi,” you whined. 

“Give me more.” He kissed you on the top of your head, nose buried in your hair. “Give me everything.”

𝐀𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 | Oikawa Tooru.

You’re in love with each other. Which part of it do you not understand?

Pairing: FWB!Obsessive!Oikawa Tooru x reader.

Word count: 1.4k

Genre: Angst(?), suggestive, fluff depending on your perspective.

Warnings: Cursings, anxiety, intrusive thoughts, delusions, impure thoughts, implied manipulation, abandonment issues, jealousy, very little blood, oikawa needs therapy, mental breakdown, reader needs to run.

Keep reading